


Regalia

by drinkbloodlikewine, whiskeyandspite



Category: London Spy
Genre: Clothes Kink, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Stripping, Undressing, instructions, role play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-06-03 07:11:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6601648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drinkbloodlikewine/pseuds/drinkbloodlikewine, https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskeyandspite/pseuds/whiskeyandspite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Tell me a story of us like this,” Danny asks him. “Tell me how we would be, if you’d remained in the navy.”</i>
</p>
<p>Alex tries on his uniform for Danny.</p>
<p>A personal headcanon that he served in the navy before coming into MI6 - James Bond style.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Regalia

“You were the third of only three people in my life outside the Service to know I was a spy, but the second that I told.”

“Who were the other two that knew?”

“The people who raised me. I didn’t need to tell them. They could see it on my face the first time that I returned home after I was recruited.”

Danny watches from the bed as Alex removes the towel from his waist, standing before the full-length closet mirror. Freshly shaven, his hair combed, heat rises still-steaming from his skin. The towel, folded twice and then in half, wipes clarity from fog across the mirror. He unrolls a pair of pants - white - from where they’re neatly folded, and slips them along his legs, over curved calves and hard thighs.

“And the other that you told?” Danny asks.

Balancing to bring his socks - white - up to his shins, Alex’s eyes lift in a subtle smile. “I was discovered, once.”

As Alex settles to the edge of the bed, snapping suspenders around his calves and attaching each elastic stay to his socks, Danny bites his lip. His brows lift. “You were caught?”

“No,” Alex says. “I was discovered. Embedding a keystroke logger into a computer where I shouldn’t have been, at a time that I shouldn’t have been there. I heard his footsteps, but by then it was too late. I could either continue what I was doing and finish the job, or try to make excuses as I abandoned it.”

He stands and bends to check his garters, and Danny tilts his face against the pillow to muffle an ecstatic sigh at the sight of Alex’s bottom framed just so. His shoulders roll as he stands again into a lax stretch. Danny swears could learn every inch of human anatomy just watching the man move.

“The man waited for me outside the door. To this day, I question whether or not he was a defector,” Alex muses, removing a white undershirt from a drawer and snapping the creases from it. “He asked me what business I had in that particular office. He asked me, ‘Who do you think you are?’ and then called me an unpleasant word. And in that moment - my first operational assignment - all I could think was the truth of it. I’d done my job, to whatever end, and now stood to be held accountable because I didn’t do it well enough. It seemed so ignominious. And I panicked.”

He tucks his shirt into his briefs, smoothing the fabric flat against his stomach. Ash nearly falls from Danny’s unminded cigarette, but - clad only in one of Alex’s jumpers and a pair of boxers - Danny stretches to his belly and taps the cigarette against his empty beer bottle. “What did you do?”

“I told him I must be a very poor spy to be caught like this,” Alex laughs, a single soft breath.

“You didn’t.”

“I did.” Alex removes his uniform from the closet and dusts it down with his hand, turning to face Danny. His brows knit, pensive, but with a smile in his eyes. “And do you know what he did?”

“You’re still alive, so - so nothing terrible,” Danny says, though he knows his hope sounds strained. He brings the remains of his cigarette to his lips and smokes it to the filter before letting it slip into the bottle. “What?”

“He gave me directions back to the research division to which I’d been assigned, and warned me about wandering after hours. We never spoke of it again. I was never called into question. I simply finished my cover work and left.”

“Christ,” Danny laughs.

Alex hums, unfastening his jacket’s buttons to lay it aside, and beginning the shirt beneath. “I realized then the paradox of espionage. If you tell someone you’re not a spy, they think you’re lying. And if you tell them you are, they think you’re lying.”

Danny laughs, a soft sound, and folds the long sleeves over his fingers before bringing his knuckles to his lips. It is entirely true, and not only about spying. There is a societal expectation to assume a joke of something unfathomable or uncomfortable, or to assume a lie when you yourself feel threatened. That’s why it’s always harder to undo the harm of a lie discovered - one can never be entirely certain they’re not being lied to again.

Alex is never sure, it seems, about anyone except for Danny.

He watches Alex button, meticulously, the pressed shirt from his uniform. He needn't imagine how beautiful he looked in it younger - he can see how beautiful he is now. He wonders if the navy was a comfort for Alex, an acceptance where his home had not been. A constant regimen and routine, told when to eat and sleep and work. Told when to stop and when to never, ever stop.

It must have been such a relief for Alex's busy mind. 

Danny bites gently against the thick woven fabric of the sweater sleeve, and shifts to curl his knees closer to his belly. He draws a breath as Alex lifts his chin to button his collar.

“Did you like it? In the navy.”

“Very much,” he says.

“Even boot camp?” Danny grins, biting his lip.

“I enjoyed basic training,” Alex laughs. “Wake up, dress, eat. Lectures in the morning. Training in the afternoon. Shower, dress, sleep. I was very happy,” he says. “Although I’m certain I was the only one in my class who enjoyed it quite so much.”

“Did you learn how to fire guns?” Danny asks, grinning against his sleeve. He blushes beneath Alex’s amused glance, and reaches for another cigarette. It shouldn’t be arousing, but it is, imagining Alex akin to an action hero. The uniform he’s pouring himself into hardly helps settle the pulsing twitch between his legs.

“And how to strip, clean, repair and rebuild them. Survival skills. Disaster response. We spent the last nine weeks upon a warship,” he adds. “And that was only basic. My skills were appreciated, which I’d never felt before. I didn’t have to wonder if they were because I could see evidence of it right on my lapel,” he says, offering Danny a small smile in the mirror.

Danny’s cheeks warm where his cool fingers have tucked against it. Alex slips into his trousers, practiced motions without wasted movement. They settle perfectly tailored against his hips, sleek and deep blue, creased sharply down the center of each leg. Through the loops he slides a glossy black belt. It’s a ritual, as much as any priest putting on his vestments. Each article is applied separately and with contemplation. Nothing is rushed, but neither anything delayed. Even Alex’s breathing has slowed, a keen clarity shining bright in his eyes.

“Would you have stayed?” Danny asks.

Alex pauses, hand down his trousers to tuck his shirt in. “You mean if the Service hadn’t extracted me?” Danny hums and Alex nods, without need for more consideration than that. “Yes. It sounds as much a paradox as the espionage dilemma, but I found peace in the military.”

“You liked the order of it.”

“It was the first time in my life I stopped feeling as if I were somewhere I shouldn’t be.” He lifts his collar, and lays a black silk tie against his neck. “You were the second.”

Danny lights his cigarette and rolls slowly onto his back, head still turned to look at Alex as his fingers work elegant and quick against his throat. He knows how it feels to have a tie tied around him like that, he knows how it feels to have Alex pressed up behind him, softly murmuring instructions as he himself ties the careful knot. It’s lovely. It’s intimate.

He squeezes his thighs together as Alex reaches for his jacket and slips it on. It is heavy and dark and decorated, every stripe earned with hard work and perseverance. He notices that Alex’s posture immediately shifts to something straighter, prouder. His shoulders stretch back and his chin lifts and as he slides into his shoes, his feet step together as though he’s at attention. Danny bites his lip and rolls over to ash his cigarette again, staying on his stomach this time as he takes Alex in.

The hat is last, not worn but kept beneath his arm, and when Alex turns the only thing Danny finds he can do is giggle and curse softly against his hand. He is beautiful.

“It takes a little while to get into full dress,” Alex says in apology. “It’s for particular ceremonies. The one for day-to-day is simpler - more practical…”

“I wasn’t laughing at you,” Danny assures him, biting his thumb in a wide grin. “And believe me, I didn’t mind the wait.”

Alex smiles a little at this, eyes drawing up at the corners. “I feel as if I’m late somewhere.”

Drawing his knees up beneath him and letting them splay out into the sheets, Danny sits up and settles his cigarette between his lips, crooking a finger for Alex to come closer. When he draws the cigarette away again it’s with another helpless laugh and a shake of his head. “You’re right on time,” he says, “Lieutenant Turner.”

Eyes narrowing, though hardly in displeasure, Alex steps closer to the bed. He stands before Danny as if ready for inspection. Chin upraised and eyes forward, back straight and shoulders broad. His jacket cuts a sleek line from wide chest to narrow waist, every stitch in place, every inch of leather shined and treated.

Alex’s eyes dart downward, when Danny sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and bites. They lift again immediately, and fighting down a smile, Alex asks, “Do you like it?”

Danny sits up on his knees and leans in close, just enough to let his unfinished cigarette fall into the beer bottle. Alex smells clean, he smells a little of leather polish and heavy threads. He asks the most obvious question in the sweetest way and it’s all Danny can do not to moan.

“Turn,” he says instead. “Slowly, please.”

Keeping his hat held appropriately beneath his arm, Alex turns in quarters. Though the movement is slow, not the rapid snap to which he’s accustomed while in uniform, he settles his heels together every time. Eyes forward. Shoulders back. In a curious pluck of memory, amidst the scent of beer and cigarettes, cooling tea and lavender soap, Alex could swear he smells machine oil and gunpowder.

Danny lifts a hand to stop Alex after the first turn. In profile, he is striking. Clean-shaven jaw set firm, his nose long and perfectly straight, he looks akin to the Grecian statues they saw at the museum a few weeks before. But his arms - muscles just seen in subtle rises beneath his sleeves - and his legs, lengthy and powerful, and his ass...

"Turn."

Good heavens, his ass.

Bringing his knees together, Danny arches up to sit higher on them. Cock caught between his thighs, it stiffens from no more than simply looking at Alex - a naval lieutenant, a spy, a scientist, his friend and his lover and his partner all - dressed to such pristine and powerful effect. He can't resist the whimper this time, recalling all too well the red marks he scratched along the firm curve of Alex's ass last time Alex hefted him onto their kitchen table and pinned him down.

“Turn,” Danny tells him softly, and he can feel Alex’s smile before he sees it, as he obeys. Danny wonders what would have happened had they met like this - had Danny met Alex in this attire, in this situation, on leave for a weekend with deployment awaiting. Would Alex have looked twice at him? Would Danny have pursued as intensely as he had?

Yes, he thinks.

Regardless of Alex’s non-belief when it comes to fate and magic, Danny’s belief still holds. Yes. He would have followed. Yes, he would have pursued. Yes, he would have tried.

Because otherwise, how do you know?

“Beautiful,” Danny whispers, gesturing for Alex to turn back to face him again, and sitting up to kiss him chastely on the lips.

Alex lifts his free hand to gather a loose fistful of Danny's curls. He brings Danny up higher, and bending their lips together in a deeper kiss, breathes a moan against his mouth. A uniform that spoke to him once of duty now carries in its seams an unexpected loveliness, worn not for service but for Danny's pleasure alone. Looked upon, studied and desired, Alex feels Danny's gentle declaration.

Alex feels beautiful.

The pressure of Danny's palms against his chest draws a breath sharp beneath. Breathing out in a sustained whisper against Danny's cheek, Alex teases his tobacco-warm lips with little kisses. The dense navy wool sounds like static beneath Danny's fingernails as they curl and drag, and Alex tosses his hat to the bed to wrap his other arm around Danny's waist.

Danny laughs, delighted and sweet, and wraps his arms around Alex’s shoulders to hold him close. He feels like the spouse of a sailor returning from months and months at sea. He feels his heart beat too quickly, move from his chest to his throat as he hums and kisses Danny again.

“Tell me a story of us like this,” Danny asks him. “Tell me how we would be, if you’d remained in the navy.”

Alex releases his gentle hold of Danny’s hair to sweep his curls from his face. “Had I remained? I’d likely be Lieutenant Commander Turner, then,” he considers, laughing as Danny arches up against him, squeezing close again. “I’d have sought a position on a ship, to have time away from England…”

“A big ship?”

“Very big,” Alex grins, shy still when they play like this, but heart pounding enthusiasm despite. "A war ship, overseeing weapons engineering. Do I know you yet?"

"Of course," grins Danny. "We met while you were running."

"While I was getting ready for deployment," Alex agrees, ducking his head to touch the tip of his nose against Danny's own. "We didn't have long together. Shore leave's only for a week, but it was long enough to know. I wrote you whenever I could." His lips part with a sigh, eyes hooded. "I missed you terribly. I worried you wouldn’t care to see me again."

“I thought about you every day,” Danny tells him, nuzzling his nose against Alex’s in affectionate little rubs. “I’d wear your clothes, those you’d left behind, and curl up in them to feel you close.” Danny bites his lip again and lets it go. He loves when Alex is willing to play like this, even a little. He loves it because Alex doesn’t know just how good he is at this.

He’s a natural.

“I counted the days ‘til you’d be home, met you at the pier,” he laughs. “Nearly bowled you over when I saw you, pushed aside so many people I stopped apologizing after a while. How long are you staying?”

Alex's breath leaves him and he sinks his arm deeper around Danny's waist, snaring him tight. He turns into the slender fingers that press to his face, leaning low to kiss Danny again and holding warmly when he finds his cheek instead. "I'll stand here all night if it's the only way I can keep holding you," Alex murmurs, letting loose a note of laughter before he's kissed again.

"We can't stand here the whole time," grins Danny, palms placed to Alex's cheeks.

"No," Alex agrees. "A night, maybe, but not a whole week. I don't normally like leave. Before you, I'd always wind up at home, desperate to depart again as soon as I arrive. But with you..."

"With me."

"I feel like I'm home," he smiles, catching Danny's fingers as they slide to his tie, and bringing them to his lips again. "People will talk."

"They already are. Do you care?"

"No. I'll sort them out later. Right now all I care about is getting back to your flat -"

"Mine?"

"Yes," Alex laughs. "I don't have one anymore." Snaring Danny by the waist, he turns to sit on the bed in his stead, bringing his friend into his lap. Danny spreads his thighs over Alex's legs, wool scraping warm against tender skin. "Three hours away from you is too many. Three months is unfathomable."

Danny wiggles against him, settling into this new position and not letting Alex go, not even a moment. He thinks of how silly they would be on that pier, surrounded by other couples, or families, or friends, just as happy to see their sailors. He thinks of how he would hold Alex’s hand and tug him along to a cab so they could go back to his little flat and spend the week there.

A week is never enough.

A week is an entire world.

Danny reaches to take Alex’s hat and sets it to his head with a grin, cocking it to the side and arching his back. “How do I look?”

Alex looks him over, seeking between his eyes and up to the hat, down to his mouth and across his cheeks. It's as if it's truly been months since they were together, relief and adoration widening his eyes. It's how Alex always looks at him, in play or not.

"A more commanding officer I've never seen," Alex tells him, reaching up to tuck a curl of hair beneath the brim of his hat.

"Captain of the HMS Turner."

"Master and commander, both."

Alex tilts his head back to traces kisses against Danny's stubbled jaw. He spreads his hands up his back and holds him close, memorizing anew - every time, anew - the taste and feel of him, the scent and sight of him, the sound of his breath as he shivers sweetly. "I should ask how you've been, but I know you," he says, "and you're always fine. But you mean it now when you say it. You mean it now because it's true."

Danny slides his fingers to Alex's tie and with his tacit permission now, works it free. He loops it over his shoulders, and Alex tries to settle the collar of his jumper back up onto Danny's shoulder. It slides low again, and hat cocked jaunty, Danny leans low to murmur against his ear. "Tell me all the ways you missed me that you wouldn't say in letters."

"I won't," Alex says. "I'll show you."

“Okay.” Danny’s smile warms his face. It pulls his blush deeper under his eyes and across his nose. With a soft sigh he goes when Alex turns him to lie on the bed, and he keeps his legs spread as Alex had them, even as his lieutenant stands up to look at him. Danny feels missed. He feels loved. He runs through his head the words that had filled countless imaginary pages between them and bites his lip as he waits for Alex to show him the things he didn’t say.

Wide hands set to his thighs, first, stroking up and down Danny’s legs, from knee to the hem of his shorts. Gentle touches, loving ones. Danny brings his covered hand to his mouth again and softly chews against the wool. He doesn’t widen his legs, he doesn’t close them. He holds his breath and waits.

Kneeling to the bed, Alex's shoes fall with quiet thuds to the wooden floor. Beneath his uniform jacket, beneath his starched shirt, his breath fills him with such a rhythm that Danny can see the movement of his sides beneath stiff wool. Lips parted, eyelids lowered, Alex lifts the hem of Danny's jumper just enough to bare his belly and sink a kiss against it. His other hand seeks, first only fingertips and then more, beneath the leg of Danny's pants.

Made clumsy with need, but charming for that clumsiness, Danny whimpers against his sleeve as he watches Alex spill affection against him with firm kisses and gentle breath. His fingers find the dense thatch of hair between his legs as his mouth reaches the waistband of his shorts.

"This won't do at all," he murmurs, a clip to his tone that Danny's never heard before. Authoritative. Vaguely displeased. A little posh and very particular. He doesn't dare ask for it again - it will make Alex self-conscious if he does.

Alex looks upward when Danny's sigh tilts and topples to a moan, and grinning, he slips his boxers down around his thighs. “For Queen and country,” he sighs with a laugh, and takes Danny in his mouth.

Danny stifles a helpless giggle against his sleeve and arches up into the heat of Alex’s mouth. He is so good at this, gentle and demanding at once, dominant and yet entirely content to submit to the way Danny moves beneath him. He seeks with his free hand to spread his fingers through Alex’s hair as he moans and shivers beneath him.

“I missed you,” he breathes. “God, I missed you.”

Hands seek lower, over the thick navy of Alex’s jacket, fingers grasping to have a handful before letting it go. Alex’s hair drapes mussed into his eyes, lips reddening damp with every bob to take Danny deep across his tongue. There was a time that Alex could scarcely perform this act, overthinking it and triggering a choking reflex. With patience, time and practice, he savors the act of giving now as much as the taste of clear slick spilling salty over his tongue.

He slides Danny's cock free with a pop, breath coming quick as he swallows to regain it. Before Danny can react, Alex snares his shorts to drag them low. Before Alex can react, Danny holds him by the lapel of his uniform and drags him up higher. He gets Danny's boxers down to his knees before he's pulled up to meet his lips, moaning heavy against his mouth.

Dark navy wool rubs coarse against Danny's back, his jumper ruched upward, his bottom half bared. Alex presses a hand to his belly and slides the jumper higher, until cold brass buttons press to hot skin.

"Danny, God," he laughs, brow creased in delight as his belt buckle clicks open, and Danny grins. "I love you."

Danny squirms pleasantly beneath him, reaching to pull Alex closer, disrupting his undressing so he can hold him and nuzzle and distract him. Months of waiting and a week to make up for it. Hardly a fair time period but better than none at all. Danny rarely has horror scenarios in his mind with Alex at sea, but when he does they linger and tug at his subconscious.

Now, though, now he has him here.

“I love you,” he whispers back. “I chose you, I want you.”

“You waited for me,” Alex sighs against his shoulder.

“I will. I always will.”

Hand flat against Danny’s belly, Alex pulls their bodies flush. Danny’s bared bottom rubs cradled against Alex’s lap, and with a rough sigh pressed to the curve of his neck, Alex rocks firmly back in response. With his free hand, he strokes his fingers from Danny’s brow back through his hair, baring his neck, seeking to feel his pulse with parted lips and leave pale marks against his skin that will fade by morning so he can make them again.

Danny’s clever fingers work between them to unzip him. He tugs his cock through the fly of his briefs, and brings his precome slick thumb to his lips to suck clean. Alex’s eyes widen, rapt, and then close again with a soft groan as Danny spits into his hand and rubs it between his cheeks.

“Should I take it off?” Alex asks, words muffled against Danny’s hair.

Danny grins and shakes his head, eyes closed and lips pulled wide as he laughs. “No,” he says. “I want you to think of me, and this, when you wear it next time.”

Small hands grasp against Alex’s hip and tug him near, slip into his hair and tug him even closer. With a laugh, Danny draws his legs up and rolls them both so Alex is on the bed and Danny on top of him. He wants to see him, every shiny button and beautiful fold of clothing, every shift and shiver of emotion that runs across Alex’s face when they make love.

He wants to see, and to remember, and to have Alex see the pleasure he gives him, too.

Danny twists free of his boxers and kicks them aside, bracing his hands against Alex’s stomach as he shifts his weight. He curls his hips on the return, an upward stroke that bumps their cocks together and joins their voices in a moan. His hand is caught, though, as he reaches to remove Alex’s jumper. Fingers brought to his lieutenant’s lips instead, he leaves it on with a laugh.

“You don’t want to see me?” He teases, squeezing Alex’s fingers, and reaching between to stroke them both in tandem with the other hand. “After all this time?”

“I want to feel you,” Alex answers. He releases Danny’s hand and presses both to his belly instead, supporting him with effortless strength as Danny leans into him and lifts himself. He spits discretely into his palm again and slicks Alex as he aligns him, their gaze held when he begins to lower himself back.

It’s a slow shift, a deliberate tease of shallow thrusts before Danny starts to properly sink down against him. His eyelids flutter and his lips part and with a soft groan he squeezes his muscles around Alex before relaxing and continuing down again. It is always such a deep stretch, such a good feeling. He aches after, he feels it for days. On the first day when Alex is deployed again, Danny slips his fingers into himself and tries to make the feeling last.

It rarely does.

But it makes this all the more special.

Danny’s thighs tremble around Alex as he sits and with a laugh he smears a hand over his face before letting it rest on Alex’s chest. His fingers stroke down precise folds of fabric and shining buttons. He splays the other hand beneath to press his palm to Alex’s twitching stomach, soft hair and firm muscle. Alex’s lips hang parted on silent gasps of scarce breath, watching Danny as if in disbelief.

“I’ve never seen anyone as beautiful as you,” he finally says, before his eyes flutter closed and he arches back against the bed, burying himself in Danny’s welcome warmth.

When Danny lifts himself to his knees again, he pushes against Alex’s form beneath to curve his body deep. Shoulders curved forward, head ducked and eyes bright behind oil-spill curls tangled wild, Danny rides his friend with ardent devotion, unrelenting in seeking pleasure for them both, coiling with constant movement. Alex touches him beneath his jumper, fluttering passes of fingertips brushing over Danny’s nipples, down his ribs, across his belly and back up again. He follows the concave curve of his back to grasp his ass and spread him a little wider, a soft _oh_ caught on his breath when Danny bites his lip and whines delight.

“Faster?” Danny asks, breathless and flushed. He grins when Alex nods, and shifts himself to oblige. Rocking and rubbing against him, turning his hips until he feels Alex’s cock brush his prostate. His groan hums against his skin, against his bones and through his blood. It melds into a laugh when his lips stretch into a smile and again Danny’s hand presses to his face. His thighs burn, his stomach tightens and heats and he squirms in pleasure against his lover.

“God, you feel good,” Danny whispers. “You feel so good.”

Alex wraps his hands in the hem of his jumper, tugging it off Danny’s head. His hair flies wild with static and he laughs, startled, as Alex sits up beneath him. A hand against his cheek, an arm around his waist, Alex kisses the giddy joy from Danny’s lips and shares his own in a widening smile. Their bodies move clumsy, too fast and not fast enough, too close together but never, ever as near as they want to be.

An easy movement brings Danny’s back to the bed and Alex lays heavy atop him, uniform rubbing friction against his bared skin and rippling goosebumps down his limbs. He manages a leg over Alex’s hip as the bed quakes from their eager joining. Alex kisses him gasping, unwilling to relent to his lungs when he could draw his breath from Danny’s lips instead.

“Breathe,” Danny encourages him, pressing a palm to his cheek even as he kisses his bottom lip again. “Breathe for me.” He himself has trouble with the instruction, breath catching every thrust when Alex hits that sweet spot within him. He laughs, bright and loud and delighted, and shakes his head.

“I’m going to come,” he giggles. “Alex - fuck - Alex!”

“Will you?” Alex gasps, laughing the breath right out again. He squeezes a kiss beneath Danny’s jaw, touches his tongue to his pulse. He leans back enough to fit his hand between them and fist Danny’s cock and no sooner does he stroke than Danny arches resplendent from the sheets.

Short, slick bursts spill between them. Roping thick across chest and uniform, buttons and belly, Danny grasps the pillow beneath him and bends back. He trembles with Alex’s thrusts, he shakes from his own ecstatic release. Suspended seemingly mid-air, in his glory he reminds Alex suddenly of Renaissance angels, perfectly formed and impossibly lovely, full of spirit and pride.

His own orgasm is heralded not with a moan, but with a gasp, soft and shuddering.

Danny spreads himself on the bed, contented and sleepy and warm, legs hooked over Alex’s hips, toes spread and curling in languid delight. He tugs his own hair and moans softly, letting his eyes open just a crack to watch Alex above him.

His Alex, his beautiful, rational, logical, brilliant Alex. Back from no wars and not deployed to any, just his and just here, wearing a uniform he looks so bloody dashing in.

“I think I made a bit of a mess,” Danny admits, apologizing.

Alex lays against his side, half atop, and pays little mind to the sweat and semen now soaking into his dress blues. He strokes a hand through Danny’s hair and smiles. “I was prepared for this as an eventuality. I guessed your intentions.”

“To untidy your uniform?”

Alex blinks, and nods, grinning when Danny laughs. “To say the least. I’m not sure I know the Croatian to make excuses to the dry cleaner, though.”

“Tell them that you just returned from deployment and couldn’t help yourself.”

“That’s not really an excuse, so much as the truth,” Alex muses, tucking a kiss against Danny’s shoulder. “Mostly, anyway.” Another kiss, and then another. He watches him, eyes wide with a quiet fascination, the muscles beneath made soft from the revelation he always reaches after they’ve reached climax. “I’ll simply tell them, when they look askance at me, that I’m in love with the most incredible man I’ve ever met, and I value his pleasure more than my uniform.”

“Will you?” Danny asks, nose wrinkling in delight.

“No,” he grins. “I imagine they’d stop taking my suits entirely if I said that.”

Another laugh and Danny rolls on his side, curling an arm around Alex to hold him near. Forehead to forehead they breathe together, relax and let the shivers of pleasure subside. In this lifetime or another, where they could have met as a sailor and his lover, they would be together. In any algorithm, they add up together, their atoms knowing each other everywhere and every time.

“Thank you for showing me your uniform,” Danny mumbles, already sleepy, and content to be.

Alex wraps his arm over Danny’s own, across his shoulder. He fans fingers through his hair and when Danny nuzzles close, he lifts his chin. Sometimes Alex needs to be held, shown his worth in sweet words and endlesses kisses, in deep penetration and warmth surrounding him when they’re through. Sometimes Danny does, and Alex has never felt a moment of resistance to wrapping him tight and letting him feel small.

He thinks of his uniform, stiffening with fluids. He thinks of how wrinkled it will be when they wake. It will smell of sex and sweat, and looking nothing like the tidy order in which it first set itself against his body today.

None of that matters in comparison to Danny’s form nestled against his own.

“Thank you for appreciating it,” he says, smiling when Danny snores softly in response.


End file.
